


Flying Scared

by virgilistic



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Brief description of violence, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, If anything needs to be tagged tell me in the comments!, M/M, Not everyone has wings, Serial Killer, Wing AU, Winged! Logan, Winged! Virgil, analogical - Freeform, i dont know how to tag aaaa, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-10-05 01:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17315429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virgilistic/pseuds/virgilistic
Summary: Logan is just one kid out of many in his school - excepting the wings upon his back - and all he’s hoping for is a quiet year.But those hopes go out the window with three new friends and news of a serial killer steadily drawing closer to his small town.One by one the Winged folk of his school start getting killed.When Logan’s closest friend (and crush, not that he’d admit it) gets taken, he’s on a race against time to find him before it’s too late.





	1. Wilted Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!! this is a four-chapter fic im in the process of writing. I have no way of keeping a posting schedule, but i wanted to post the first chpater somewhere. Im waiting til its fully written to post it on tumblr, so!!
> 
> This story is four chapters, and there is a chapter title and summary for each.
> 
> I wanna thank @ihateitwhenyourejustvague on tumblr for helping me out by betaing this!!

The crickets chirped eerily in the early morning.

High above them, shrouded in the night-time shadows, a figure danced through the sky on open wings.

In Logan’s world, some people were… special.

Some time ago, long before Logan was born, things… began to change. Babies were being born with anomalies, mutations -  they had strange deformations on the bones of their shoulders, and their bone structure was different.

Through the generations, the deformations grew, took form, developed, until one day…

A baby was born, downy feathers soft on the small wings that branched from the baby’s back, as if they had always been there, as if there was nothing wrong with them.

More followed. Soon, winged children were… almost normal to see.

They were accepted as a new subspecies, and humanity was split, into the Winged and the Wingless.

The Winged were far from accepted into society, however. The children were teased when they played in the street, they had rocks thrown at them by the Wingless children, they were relentlessly beaten down and insulted.

But when they grew up, they rose against the people who belittled them.

They fought.

They initiated protest after protest - they were loathe to let the abuse they suffered continue on for their children to endure.

And it worked.

Winged children were allowed to go to school, were allowed to apply for jobs, were allowed all the rights that the Wingless enjoyed.

In theory.

In reality, prejudice still ran strong in the general populace. Every day it died down, but…

It seemed that the high school hierarchy left no room for change in that regard, Logan thought, grimacing as he was shoved roughly into the lockers.

He heard the trio laughing as they continued boisterously to their classroom, and rolled his eyes as he pulled his book from his locker and made his way to his first class - English.

As he walked into class, however, he was shocked to find someone he’d never seen before standing in the room, staring determinedly down at his shoes.

As the final bell rang, the teacher, Mrs. Lee, turned with a smile to the class.

“As you may have noticed as you walked in, we have a new student joining us. This is Virgil Storm, he’ll be part of your class as of today.” She paused, and Logan took the chance to study Virgil.

He was shorter than Logan - most people were, he’d admit - but more importantly, he was… like him. His black wings were curled tensely to his back, purple barely visible from where he stood.

They were similar to Logan’s - they had the same black base, except where Virgil seemed to have a vivid purple gradient, Logan had intermittent vivid blue feathers set in neat, exact patterns across the expanse of his wings. A night sky, marked into his very being.

Logan snapped back into the real world as Virgil sat quietly into the seat in front of him.

He could see Virgil bouncing his knee, his pencil tapping nervously against his opposite hand.

He leaned forward, tapping Virgil gently to get his attention.

“Is everything okay?” He asked calmly. “You seem to be a bit on edge.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes at Logan, and Logan quickly leaned back to give him space.

“Everything is fine.” He snapped, his voice gravelly.

Logan tilted his head silently.

Virgil watched him sceptically for a second before sighing.

“My school hasn’t gotten to where you guys are yet. Mrs. Lee told me to ask someone to help me catch up, but…”

Logan hummed, tapping his own pencil against his chin.

“I could help you, if you wanted.” He offered. “I still have all my notes from this school year, and if you feel up to it I wouldn’t be opposed to helping out after school.”

Virgil scoffed and for a minute Logan thought he was going to refuse, but to his surprise Virgil sighed, nodding and holding out a hand.

“Okay. Um, what is your name…?”

“Ah, my apologies. My name is Logan Beris. It’s nice to meet you. “

“That’s debatable.” Virgil mumbled, turning around in his seat.

Logan frowned but decided to leave it, tuning back into the lesson.

As the bell rang, Logan caught Virgil’s arm.

Something about the boy was intriguing, be it the defensive snapping or the guarded demeanor, but whatever it was, it made Logan want to get to know him better.

To his surprise, however, Virgil yanked his arm out of Logan’s grasp with a harsh glare and a...hiss?

Blinking, Logan watched in surprise as Virgil stalked away.

He seemed unapproachable at best, and unreasonably hostile at worst.

He simply couldn’t fathom it.

Shaking his head, Logan started off on his way to his next class, the dreaded extracurricular fine arts class every student was required to take.

He had, in a desperate bid, signed up for a creative writing class.

Looking back, it was very possibly the worst decision he’d ever made in the history of his academic career.

Logan, as was no secret, had no regard for fantasy or fiction, and creativity was in no way his area.

To say the least, he was screwed.

In comparison to his perfect A’s, the lowly C he had in creative writing was… concerning, to say the least.

He desperately needed help.

As he walked into the class, however, he found himself pleasantly surprised.

In the very back of the class, slouched in his seat as he scribbled in the margins of an open notebook, sat Virgil.

Walking over to him, Logan opted not to strike up a conversation.

Virgil seemed even less socially-inclined than he was - a high accomplishment, truly - and Logan was content to take it slow and sit in silence.

He saw Virgil give him a wary glance from his peripherals, and tried to loosen up his posture.

He relaxed his back, carrying his wings loosely and crossing his ankles lazily underneath his desk.

He pulled a folder out onto his desk, attempting to write a few more lines on the paper before class began.

He heard Virgil give an annoyed huff before the door closed, the teacher coming in before brightly beginning the class.

Logan tried to keep his distance. Virgil may be Winged, but that did not mean in any regards that he’d want anything to do with him.

Between trying to take notes, stealing glances at Virgil, and racing to complete the previous week’s assignment, the class was over before Logan could think of how to approach Virgil.

As the bell rang, he began to silently formulate a plan for tomorrow.

He stopped in his tracks, however, when he heard someone calling his name.

Turning, Logan merely watched curiously as Virgil walked up to him, looking suddenly as though he regretted saying anything.

“You… you take creative writing?” Virgil asked quietly.

Logan nodded solemnly. “Yes. Unfortunately, I am far from skilled, and my grades are suffering.”

Virgil smirked for a second before awkwardly looking to the side, shuffling his feet.

“You are skilled in this… fantastical… whimsical type of literature?” Logan asked.

Virgil shrugged. “I wouldn’t say skilled, but I can at least get through these classes.” He said, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the writing class.

Logan hummed, tapping his fingers together. “Would you mind if we had a little exchange of sorts?”

“... what do you mean?”

“I’ll tutor you in our shared English class to get you up to date with the content, and you tutor me in creative writing so that I won’t have a bad grade marring my record.”

Virgil raised a skeptical eyebrow, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “What exactly is your grade in that class?”

“As of last week, I have a 79%, a C.”

“Buddy…” Virgil disguised a laugh with a cough. “That’s basically a B, you’re fine.”

Logan sniffed. “I do not like the feeling of… inadequacy that class gives me. It would be comforting to improve and to see positive feedback from the teacher, rather than the constant errors. Surely-”

“Chill, specs. I’ll help.”

Logan nodded gratefully. “Now, the one-minute bell just rang… am I right to assume you don’t know where all of your classes are, being new and all?”

Logan saw Virgil tense up, checking the time on his phone before navigating to his schedule.

“Oh, crap, you’re right!” Virgil said, grip tight around his phone.

“Apologies, but I thought we may have a few classes together, both being Winged. They tend to shove us all together. If we do, I could show you to the classrooms?”

Virgil paused, seemingly considering the offer even as he shifted nervously on his feet.

“...Okay. But only if we have the same classes, I don’t want to bother you and make you late, too.”

Logan shook his head, waving off his concerns.

“There’s nothing to worry about, I assure you. Now, what class do you have next?”

“I… um…” Virgil fumbled for a second before zooming in on the picture he had pulled up on his phone. “I have… Wing Studies, with Mr. Briant.”

Logan touched his fingers together, giving Virgil a pleased smile.

“I was correct. I can guide you to this class, we’re going to the same place.”

Virgil snorted, but followed Logan as he began to walk towards their shared class.

Before they could take three steps, however, they were almost bowled over by a Wingless pair - one wearing a red and white bomber jacket and the other hastily adjusting pale blue hoodie sleeves.

Logan saw as Virgil stumbled as the taller of the two accidentally knocked against him, and he jumped forward to right him with a steadying grip on his shoulders.

The two jumped up from where they had tripped and fallen, immediately turning and apologizing profusely.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I should have been looking-”

“-didn’t even so you there, are you okay, oh no-”

“-I knocked into you, didn’t I, you aren’t hurt are you?”

“I’m so, so, so, sorry!”

Logan, noticing the glare on Virgil’s face slowly gaining intensity, just waved them off dismissively.

“It’s fine,” He grumbled, trying to get them to leave, “Neither of us were harmed, there are no hard feelings.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” One of them said, the shorter one. “If we’d accidentally hurt someone I don’t know what I’d do!”

“Well, fortunately, you did not. We’ll be on our way.” Logan replied stiffly. The boy was just so… unnecessarily _bright._

“Oh, right!” The shorter one gasped, grabbing the taller’s hand. “We’ve gotta go, Ro! We won’t make it!”

“Oh, great ooglie pooglies, you’re right!” ‘Ro’ exclaimed, flashing a bright smile. “Gotta run, see you guys later!”

Logan stood for a second, processing, after they left. “Did he say…?”

“Yup.”

“Utterly insufferable.” Logan sniffed. “And, they just ran into people while running, and what do they do? Unbelievable.”

He heard Virgil stifle a laugh beside him, and felt a strange sense of pride well up inside him.

The rest of their walk to their classroom passed smoothly.

“So, do they actually teach new material for this class at this school?” Virgil asked wryly as they took their seats at the back of the classroom.

“Of course not,” Logan snarked. “Whyever would they do that? We clearly haven’t learned it yet, don’t you know?”

Virgil cracked a smile at that and Logan shared an eye roll with him as the teacher closed the door, the tardy bell ringing.

With the confirmation that they really wouldn’t be learning anything of importance, Logan and Virgil spent the majority of the class passing notes between their desks.

The more they talked, the more Logan could feel Virgil’s defensive barriers falling.

“Now, as many of you know,” the teacher said, about halfway through the class, “Winged kind have faced many challenges in the past. I’m sure you know of them. The main challenge we will discuss in class today is that of discrimination.”

Logan heard a snort from his side, and when he looked over to Virgil questioningly, Virgil passed him the note, covered in Logan’s neat, tidy print and Virgil’s messy cursive.

 _‘Mmm, yes. Because discrimination, that’s a thing of the_ **_past”_ ** _,_ the note read.

Logan couldn't help the small snort that escaped him, trying and failing to disguise it with a cough.

“Is there something you find _amusing,_ Mr. Beris?” the teacher asks, voice sour.

“No, sir. My apologies, sir.” Logan recited.

Mr. Briant ‘hmphed’, but in the end he turned away and let the incident go, continuing with the lesson.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur.

Logan and Virgil quickly and silently agreed to find an empty table and sit together, seeing as how they had somehow quickly become attached at the hip. Virgil because, well, meeting people was hard and making friends wasn’t exactly his specialty, and Logan because socialization as a whole wasn’t a strong point of his.

They hadn’t taken so much as a bite when two boys, the same two who had crashed into them in the hallway, plopped down across from them.

“Mind if we join you?” Asked one. He was smiling sweetly, waving with one hand.

“If we said no, would you actually leave?” Virgil drawled, his voice gravelly and resigned.

“Wow, rude much, Charlie and the _Dark_ Chocolate Factory?” The other piped up cheerily.

Virgil scoffed, rolling his eyes, and Logan cleared his throat.

“You may sit here, if you like. There isn’t much we could do to stop you, anyways.” He interjected. “I’m Logan Beris. This is Virgil Storm.”

“Sup.”

“Wonderful to meet you! I’m Roman Prince, and this is Patton Hart.”

Patton waved happily, grinning as he said a cheery hello.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Logan said politely, even as internally he was lamenting just how… _bright_ these people were. In their personalities, their actions…

Truly insufferable.

“Who do you guys have next?” Patton asked politely as they began to tuck into their food.

“I have an extracurricular Astrology class in room 46.” Logan offered, offering a fry to Virgil.

Virgil declined, pushing food around his plate. “I have some… some science class. With Mrs… Mrs. Somner?”

Patton gasped suddenly across the table, his face lighting up as he wiggled in his chair. “Mrs. Somner? Me too! She’s nice, and the class is really easy, you’ll do fine!”

Virgil looked up uneasily, still absentmindedly pushing his food around on his plate. “I hope so… science has always been my worst subject.” he mumbled.

“What about after that?” Roman asked. “Who do you guys have for your last class?”

“I’ve got… Math…” Patton offered glumly.

“Same-sies.” Logan added, putting a hand up into the air.

“Same...size….” Virgil mumbled under his breath. Eventually he looked up, shaking his head in amusement as he smirked at Logan. “I have it too, with Mrs. Sharp.”

“So we’re all together then!” Roman said, a happy, childlike grin set on his face. “I have to say… math has proven itself to be an enemy I simply cannot defeat. One must wonder, when will the suffering end? When will the great Dragon Witch’s dreadful rule cease? When will-”

“Chill, Princey.” Virgil said, rolling his eyes. “If you need it that bad, I can tutor you in math.”

Roman cut off his offended cry mid-breath.

“You’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Awww, y-!”

“On one condition.”

Roman eyed him suspiciously.

“What’s the condition?”

“Please stop.”

“Stop what?”

“That.” He said, waving his hand vaguely in Roman’s direction.

Roman stopped for a second. Virgil was smirking, and finally, his meaning clicked in Roman’s mind and he was left to sputter indignantly.

Virgil shrugged, leaning back in his chair and frowning as he began to scroll through his phone.

Logan leaned over as Patton and Roman got caught up in their own conversation, the topic changing too quickly for him to keep up.

“Couldn’t bear to do something out of the goodness of your heart?” He whispered.

“Oh, shut it.” Virgil grumbled, but his ears went bright red,

Logan chuckled, leaning away. “Okay, okay. You should start thinking of something better to use next time, though.” He teased.

Virgil slouched further into his chair, his grumbling unintelligible as he sunk into his hoodie.

Soon, lunch was over and Virgil and Patton bid goodbye to Logan and Roman as they headed off to their shared science class.

The last period of the day came around, and Logan was itching to meet up with Virgil and the others again.

There was just… something addicting, about this taste of that mythical thing called ‘friendship.’

He pushed his way into the classroom, noting with the rest of the class the litany of notes scrawled across the board.

When he looked over them, he saw that Roman, Patton, and Virgil had saved him a seat in a small pod of desks, and he nodded gratefully as he sat down.

“Princey’s already freaking out.” Virgil whispered, jerking his thumb back to where Patton was valiantly attempting to explain last week’s math problems to a distraught Roman.

Logan rolled his eyes fondly, turning in his desk, and pulling notes from his folder and handing them to Patton.

Patton beamed at him, a ‘thank you’ on his lips, but the teacher entered before they could say much.

She greeted the class as usual, handing out practice assignments for the day and briefly going over what they’d learned the week before.

Logan and Virgil turned around in their desks as soon as the teacher gave the ‘all clear’.

“So…” Patton started, exchanging an excited glance with Roman, “Roman and I were thinking, because we all seem to have strengths in different areas - Virgil is good at math, and Ro is good at science, and Logan, you’re good all around but you struggle with the imaginative part of English, and I just need help with most things… We could have a study group? In the afternoons? We might end up just hanging out sometimes, but that’s fine!”

Logan met Virgil’s uneasy gaze and shrugged.

“It could help as you catch up in first period, as well as science…” He offered quietly. “We will be meeting for our English and writing classes anyways, what could it hurt?”

“ I dunno, Logan… I barely like _you,_ those two are just kind of…”

Logan hummed, nodding his head in solemn agreement. “I’ll overlook the first part of that statement; they do bring a lot of… sunshine.”

“You do know we can hear you, right?” Roman asked incredulously. “We’re right behind you!”

Logan and Virgil turned to face him at the same time.

“I know what I said.” Virgil snarked, deadpan.

“Now, now, it’ll be fun!” Patton tried, his voice hopeful as he attempted to make eye contact with everyone. “Let’s just try it out, yeah?”

Virgil sighed but agreed, nodding moodily as he stared down at his worksheet.

Logan nodded to Patton, who let out a quiet whoop as Roman cheered beside him.

“When? Roman’s got theater rehearsals after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I have band rehearsal Saturday…”

“We can just go after school today, nobody ever plans anything on a Monday.” Virgil grumbled, scribbling out answers.

“He’s right. Today would work fine. Where would you like to meet?”

“We could come over to my house?” Roman offered. “My parents don’t get home ‘til late, they won’t mind.”

Patton, Logan, and Virgil all agreed, and when the bell rang an hour later, they all walked together to Roman’s house.

It… didn’t go horribly. Despite all appearances, Roman was a fast learner, and Patton was nowhere as bad as he’d suggested. Virgil still struggled with some of the concepts, but he was doing fine. Logan… he still didn’t understand the purpose of the fictitious worlds that creative writing required, but he was beginning to understand how to fake it.

As the weeks passed, Logan grew more and more fond of his small group of friends.

Astrology was, as most anyone who cared to know knew, Logan’s favorite class.

But even so, he could barely concentrate on the lessons as the weeks passed.

His mind was overrun with thoughts of Virgil, and of Patton and Roman.

They were an interesting bunch.

Roman was loud and dramatic, but he was smart and quick-witted, responding to Virgil’s jabs in mere seconds. He was funny, and much more intelligent than he seemed at first glance, despite how… eh… extra, he could be.

As Logan learned more about him, from his love of classical literature, to the old English he could spout at a moments notice, to the numerous plays and songs he could recite from memory he couldn’t help but grow attached.

Patton seemed, at first, to be a bit of an airhead to Logan, but the more he observed, the more details he noticed.

Like how Patton reined Roman in when Virgil started getting genuinely irritated, or how he defused a tense situation with a perfectly-placed pun, or how he sent concerned glances at Virgil when he got a little too tense.

And as the days passed, over lunch and during the group’s shared last period, he only saw more.

And Virgil.

Logan could go on and on about Virgil. He was… fascinating.

He grumbled and he grouched and he glared and he snapped, but he also whispered jokes and smiled softly and softened his eyes with concern, and reassured Patton before a test and helped Roman rehearse for a play and calmed him down before he went on stage and helped Logan with his English paper and-

And Logan wasn’t sure ‘friend’ fit the label anymore when three months passed and he and Virgil read silently in the library together, when another two passed and Virgil passed out on his couch and sleepily mumbled against his chest as Logan carried him up the stairs.

He wasn’t sure it was right anymore, when he found Virgil slumped against the lockers after the late bell rang, his breaths coming short and ragged and tears on his face but still stubborn as he refused to move out of the hallways, as he passed the days with him and discovered that he was a genius at poetry..

As he then went over to Virgil’s house and listened to him play piano, as Virgil cleaned his cuts and bruises after he was attacked for being Winged, as he flew with Virgil and laughed with him over how the wind tangled their hair.

“Friend” no longer fully encapsulated the entirety of Logan’s feelings.

And, frankly, that was no longer the label that Logan wished to keep for him and Virgil.

Several months passed, until leaves littered the ground and even Logan had ditched his formal attire for soft sweaters and scarves.

Patton and Roman had finally admitted their feelings for each other, and it was sickeningly sweet watching them, as Roman was ever the romantic, and Patton all too happy to be his damsel in distress.

Even so, neither Logan nor Virgil could find anything remotely negative to say - they were so pure and happy, it was hard even to tease them.

Not that they didn’t.

Even still, Logan couldn't help but be envious of the easy way that they managed to confess to each other.

Away from their tight-knit group, however, things were only getting worse for the Winged.

Schools were cracking down, towns instituting curfews, parents picking up their children rather than allowing them to walk home, because-

Because there was something, some _one_ who had his sights set on the Winged teens, and as the days passed his kill count only grew, and grew, and grew.

But that was miles away from Sanderston and its people, it was distant news, there was no way it could be of relevance to _them_.

Until it was.

It was well and truly winter when Logan got the call.

It was almost the end of the trimester, and despite the melancholy news, everyone thought they had more important things to so, with finals coming up soon.

Logan was no exception, his blinds closed against the night sky and music playing softly in his room.

And then his phone rang.

Logan stared for a moment, wondering why anyone would be calling him at… at almost two in the morning.

Flipping his phone over, he was even more surprised to see Virgil’s name emblazoned across the screen.

Virgil had expressed his loathing of phone calls multiple times, so it was highly unusual for he, himself to _call_ someone.

“Hello?” Logan asked, concern tinting his voice. He could hear Virgil’s uneven breathing on the other line, and by the minute he was becoming more worried.

“I, I’m- did you…” Virgil was stuttering, his voice shaky and weak.

“Hold on for a second, Virge, okay?” Logan asked gently, trying to keep his voice even and sure.

He heard an affirmation from Virgil and took a deep breath. “I need you to take in a deep breath for me, okay? Remember that exercise you showed us a while ago?”

“Yeah, I- I remember.”

“That’s good. I’ll count for you, just focus on breathing, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Great, come now, In, two, three, four, hold, two, three, four, five, six, seven, out, two, three…”

Logan let his voice drone on until he could hear Virgil’s breath’s coming comparatively easier.

“What’s happened?” Logan asked. Virgil was trying to tell him something before.

When Virgil replied, his voice still trembled. “Do, um… do you remember, in Mr. Briant’s class, when I first transferred, we- we were talking about discrimination of the Winged? And on the radio, when we were studying with Ro and Pat a few weeks ago, they were talking about the- the serial killer? The one who kidnaps Winged kids, kids like you and me, and, and-”

“I remember, Virge, it’s okay, you don’t have to say it.” Logan assured, voice soft as he leaned back in his chair. “Is he..?”

“He’s here, Logan. In Sanderston.”


	2. Fallen Kingdoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the serial Avin killer drawing closer to their school, Logan and his friends find the tension steadily climbing as stress builds, and they're not sure where to turn. When Virgil goes missing one night, Logan doesn’t know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to the wonderful @ihateitwhenyourejustvague on tumblr for beta-ing for me :)

_ He’s here, Logan. In Sanderston.” _

_ “W...what? How? When?” Logan asked, voice light and disbelieving. _

_ The serial killer Virgil was talking about was more commonly known as the Bird Catcher. He’d been given the name by the media, but the man himself had quickly taken it on. _

_ He went mainly after teenagers - specifically, Winged teenagers. For the majority of the time he’d been making a name for himself, he’d stayed mostly up in the northern part of the country. _

_ But, recently, for whatever reason, he was branching into the south. _

_ And as it turned out, he had finally made his presence known in Sanderston. _

_ “You-you know Gina, with the pale green wings?” Virgil asked, his voice quiet and trembling. _

_ “Yes, she made cookies for everyone a few weeks ago. What happened?” _

_ “She… her body, near that old laundromat by the school, you know the one? Lo… it was terrible, she was… there was so much blood, and her wings, oh, god, her wings...” _

_ With a sinking feeling, Logan stood, up, his hand tight around his phone and his books forgotten. “Virge, were… were you the one who…?” _

_ Virgil was quiet, and Logan felt his heart rate double at the choked breath that came over the line. _

_ “Virgil, where are you right now?” Logan asked, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and one of his brother’s old hoodies before running outside. _

_ “I, at the station. I’m at the station. I dialed 911 but… they had to take me too, because- because I was the one who...who-” _

_ “I’m coming, Virgil.” _

Logan had practically sprinted to the police department, his heart racing. Virgil found the body? They must have been keeping him for questioning, but Logan’s heart was almost beating out of his chest, and he just-

Logan had to see him.

He had to make sure he was okay.

When Logan finally got there, he practically threw open the doors.

There, slumped in one of the hard chairs, sat Virgil. He looked absolutely exhausted, scanning the room anxiously despite the bags heavy under his eyes.

Logan had bargained desperately with Virgil’s parents to let him stick around just a little longer, just long enough to speak to Virgil, to comfort him as best he could.

They conceded, and Logan had crouched down in front of Virgil. He hadn’t said much, and neither had Virgil. They didn’t need to. Logan let Virgil know that he wasn't alone, that he was there if he needed to talk.

And they sat.

And they breathed.

And they ignored the uneasy, foreboding feeling in the air.

The next day, Logan pushed impatiently through the throngs of people in the hallways. He glared coldly at the few people who tried to shove him around.

He wasn’t willing to put up with it today, not after the death of a friend.

When he finally walked into his classroom, Virgil was hunched miserably over his desk. As he looked up at Logan, his eyes were red-rimmed, the same eyeliner he’d worn yesterday smudged around his eyes and his hair a tangled mess.

“Are you okay?” 

“Not really.” Virgil replied, huffing a wry laugh.

Logan sat down, turning to face Virgil and pulling him into a soft hug. “Do you want to come over tonight? We can pull Roman and Patton in and have a group movie night?”

Virgil nodded tiredly, his hands fisting in the material of Logan’s shirt. “Yeah, that… um, that sounds nice. I just… I can’t stop thinking of… of her.”

Logan winced as his voice cracked, leaning back to meet Virgil’s eyes.

“Virgil… that’s understandable. You were the one who…” Logan paused. “Just be careful, yeah? There aren't many of us, and I don’t like the chance of you getting hurt.”

“Really… Sanderston is about as Wingless-run as you can get these days… like you said, there aren’t that many of us, maybe the killer will… move on?”

“I doubt it,” Logan said grimly, “He doesn’t seem like the type of person to just give up.”

Virgil opened his mouth to respond, but before he had the chance the teacher clapped her hands to start class.

Throughout the day, it nagged at Logan.

He barely heard a word that any of his teachers said. Between he and Virgil, they had  _ almost _ half a brain.

The days passed.

After Gina, Toby went missing.

The Winged crept silently in the halls, exchanging careful glances. They spent two days like that, two days of treading lightly, two days of tense shoulders and quiet whispers, two days of moving like shadows while the Wingless went about their daily lives as normal.

And then, on the third day, the body was found.

This time, it was the school headmaster who found the body - unsurprising, given that the body was dumped right outside the steps to the school.

When Logan made his way into the school, early enough that there were hardly any students, the janitor was still scrubbing blood from the cement stairs and the wall.

And the lightbulb went off in his head.

This was Sanderston, where discrimination ran strong and the locals would be all too happy to see the eradication of the Winged families in their town. 

This was Sanderston, where the Winged were openly scorned on sight.

This was Sanderston, where the Wingless made no effort to hide their whispering and gossiping. 

This was Sanderston, where the Winged were so small in number that they could do  _ nothing  _ to defend themselves against the violent prejudices the Wingless threw at them.

This was Sanderston. There would be no help.

There would be no curfews set, no safety measures taken, no protection offered.

The Winged were well and truly on their own.

And that was  _ terrifying _ .

There was no telling who could be next. 

Lunch came. The table was unusually silent. Patton stared despondently down at his food, Roman rubbing his back even as he stared broodingly into the distance.

Logan remained lost in thought, facts and statistics and reports turning round and round in his head. Virgil sat beside him, monitoring the room carefully, as if he expected the killer to walk through the door at any second.

For all they knew, he could, and none of them would be any the wiser.

Roman was the first to break the silence, the first to voice the thought they were all too scared to acknowledge.

“He isn’t going to stop.” He was met with silence. Patton took a shuddering breath, and Logan turned to meet his gaze, but little else was offered. “We have to do something.”

“What are you talking about, Roman?” Logan asked warily.

“People are dying. Our _ friends _ , Logan! It could be you next, or Virgil, or Remy, or Emile, or- “

“Roman, we’re… we’re just  _ kids _ .” 

“But we can’t just do  _ nothing.” _

_ “ _ He’s right. We can’t just…” Patton broke in, looking close to tears. “I care about you guys too much to- Roman and I, we’re Wingless, we’re safe, but you…”

Logan stayed silent, but beside him, Virgil spoke up.

“What do you suggest we do?” Virgil asked, his voice quiet and hoarse.

“Investigate. The only Winged left are you two, Remy, Emile, Joan, Elliot, and Talyn. If we get everybody in on this-“

“Do- do you understand how dangerous that is?” Logan cut in, raising an eyebrow. “This is an adult, a  _ killer _ , Roman, and moreso one that has evaded the nation’s authorities for  _ months _ on end, and you think a rag-tag group of highschoolers are going to bring him down?”

“What choice do we have, Logan?” Patton asked weakly. The discovery of Kai’s body that morning had hit him hard. He’d managed to befriend the boy several weeks before. “If we don’t do anything, more people are going to be hurt.”

Logan looked up sharply, ready to protest, when Virgil nudged him gently. “He’s right, Lo. The Catcher could wipe us all out by the end of the month the way things are going now.”

Logan sighed. He planted his elbows wearily on the table and rubbed his eyes. 

After a long minute of tense silence, he leaned back, adjusting his glasses, and turned to Roman. 

“So, you have a plan?”

Roman seemed to sag in relief, nodding hastily. “Y-yeah, like I said, uh, investigate. And never go outside alone. We need to get the others in on this, but…”

“I think it’s a good idea. We’ll need to meet up somewhere - Roman, your mom is still going to be working late on Mondays for the foreseeable future, correct?”

“Yeah. Think we should meet up there?”

“I do. It’s a private place away from prying eyes. So we’d be able to meet up there this afternoon?”

“Well, yeah, we should be able to.”

“Good. What are we looking to find in this… investigation?”

“Attack patterns, what he looks like, where he… “ Roman paused, swallowing harshly. “Where he kills the victims, and how he does it, so that we can prepare.”

“Prepare?” Patton asked quietly.

“We have to stop him somehow.” Virgil mumbled. “You said it yourself, Lo, he’s not the type to give up.”

“But you  _ know  _ police won’t do anything. You aren’t suggesting…?”

“No! No, of course not!” Virgil hurried to say, “But, we can turn to the government. After all, he’s a national threat at this point, they’ve been chasing him for months now, so surely…”

Logan frowned heavily, but as he looked around his small group of friends, he saw nothing but determination. Even as Virgil’s hands shook, he was nodding to himself. Even as tears continued to streak down Patton’s face, he met Logan’s gaze head-on. Even as Roman’s posture slumped in uncertainty, he wore courage clear and set on his face.

So he sloped his hands on the table.

He agreed.

And they went about setting up their plan.

Step one though, was to get the other Winged on board. At the least, make sure they knew not to leave the school alone. 

Roman and Patton, being the most approachable and friendly of their group, handled this part.

Logan and Virgil, admittedly lacking in the required skill set, were happy to stick behind and let them do the talking.

The small group of four hesitantly approached the table that most of the other Winged were sat at. It was a tense, melancholy atmosphere. 

Elliot was slumped silently, away from the others, their hands clenched on the table in front of them as they glared at nothing.

On either side of them, Joan and Talyn were talking quietly, seemingly attempting to comfort or distract them. Logan couldn’t really tell.

Opposite the trio, Emile and Remy spoke together in hushed whispers, sending cautious glances at their friends.

All in all, it was clear Kai’s death was hitting them hard too.

“H-hey!” Patton greeted shakily. He was still attempting to brush the tear tracks off his face, but his eyes were red-rimmed and it was obvious he’d been crying.

“Hey, Patton.” Emile greeted softly, waving a hand.

“Is it- can we sit and talk to you guys about something?” 

“Sure, pal, what is it?” Emile asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“It’s… it’s about the Catcher.” Roman cut in. 

Emile’s face dropped. “Oh, I… I didn’t expect that.” He laughed nervously, his wings rustling uneasily behind his back. “What about him?”

“We came to the conclusion that, typical to Sanderston, us Winged would be getting no help from… well, anybody.” Logan interceded when Patton and Roman exchanged an awkward glance. “We believe that if we want to survive and protect each other, we have to take direct action.”

Remy raised a skeptical eyebrow behind his sunglasses. “You mean to say you actually think a bunch of nerdy high schoolers are going to be able to go after a serial killer and  _ win _ ?”

“We’re gonna die anyways,” Virgil mumbled helpfully from the back of the group. “Might as well  _ attempt  _ to save ourselves.”

Roman turned and glared at Virgil, who just shrugged in face of the tense silence that met his words.

“... I’ll help.” Joan said, breaking the silence. 

“Joan?” Emile asked, hesitant.

“He’s right.”

“W-what?”

“He’s right. No-one is going to help us. If we want to survive, we have to go after the source.”

“I’ll help.” Talyn said, looking up from Elliot. “Who knows who could be next? It’s not like there’s very many of us anyways…”

Emile sighed, looking between them. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but… I’m in, too.” 

Logan smiled gratefully at them, before turning to meet Remy’s suspicious gaze. “What about you, Remy?” He asked quietly.

Remy snorted, pushing his sunglasses on top of his head.

“Whatever, sure, I’m in.” He said nonchalantly. “Like you said, he’s going to kill us anyways, right?”

“Well, I sure hope he doesn’t  _ berry  _ me alive, eh?” Patton said, weakly holding up a strawberry from his plate.

“Did… did he just make a pun about our impending doom?” Remy asked, cackling.

Logan just shook his head fondly, giving Patton a sympathetic pat on the back.

“Well, all puns aside, we’ll be meeting at Roman’s house this afternoon to discuss the plan. Sound good?”

He got a series of affirmations in response, and Logan nodded.

The rest of the school day was… tense, to say the least. There was a new energy between the Winged kids, a hopeful air, because finally… they weren’t just pawns in a game, they weren’t just prey in a game of cat and mouse, they weren't just victims to an unavoidable fate. They were able to push back, even if in small ways. They were banding together, keeping each other safe. They were fighting. They weren’t going to take this lying down.

When they met in Roman’s room that afternoon, the air was charged with a restless energy. The group of nine clustered into the small space, sitting anywhere there was room.

Ro and Pat collapsed onto the bed and Logan sat in Roman’s desk chair, spinning idly. Virgil perched himself atop the bed’s footboard, talking quietly with Elliot. Remy plopped himself onto the floor, and Emile carefully sat on the edge of the bed. Joan and Talyn sat together by the door.

“So.” Emile started, ever the leader. “Do we have a plan in progress, or…”

“Sorta.” Roman replied, staring at his ceiling. “We know what we need to do, but we don’t really know… how to go about it.”

“We’re listening.” Remy prompted, lazily sipping the tea in his hand.

“Well, we need to figure out how he attacks, and what he looks like, and where he- uh, where he takes his victims, and how he kills them. So we know what to watch out for.”

A grim silence fell upon the room.

“Well, I guess the best place to start would be to find the patterns and trends, yeah?” Joan pointed out. “Looking over past data and… who was killed last.”

“Precisely.” Logan praised, nodding appreciatively at them. “If I may, it would be in everyone’s best interests to move in groups of two or more at all times.”

Emile hummed in agreement. “We should set up a group chat, so we can all be in touch.”

“I’ve got it.” Roman said, heaving himself into a sitting position and beginning to type on his phone.

Not a minute later, everyone’s phones buzzed simultaneously. 

“Really, Princey? ‘Birds of a feather?’”

“It seemed fitting.” Roman argued, shrugging.

Virgil rolled his eyes, but said nothing. 

“Okay, with that issue resolved, on to the plan.”

“What is the plan, exactly?”

“It doesn’t exist yet.”

“Wh-”

“But! For a short overview- Step one was to get all of you on board. Step two, find the patterns in the killers movements and keep ourselves safe in the process. Step three, use those patterns to find the killer’s whereabouts and identify him. Step four, trace him back to his hideout. Once we secure all of this information, we move on to step five - turning him in to the national police in any way we can. After that, we lay low until we can be sure that he’s locked up.”

“So much for ‘no plan’.” Remy scoffed.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Well, many details have to be worked out, after all.”

Remy begrudgingly agreed, saluting Logan with his cup.

So that was their plan. 

Step one, band together.

Step two, find the patterns in the killer’s movements. 

Step three, use those patterns to identify the killer.

Step four, trace him, find his hideout.

Step five, call the police and notify them to the killer’s whereabouts.

Step six, well. Step six was to regroup, and stay inside until they were sure that the Catcher was safely imprisoned.

And so they set their plan in motion.

That night, they each scoured through old police reports, news broadcasts, and witness testimonies. They made bullet point lists, copy-and-pasting common details to a shared document.

And once they found a few key details, maybe three days later, they started patrolling.

Everything so far had gone perfectly - they’d found all the evidence they needed to start making important connections, to begin connecting all of the many dots. It was going  _ perfectly _ , and then- and then they saw the Catcher.  In one night, just like that, the first crack in the plan was made.

Logan furrowed his brow. Beside him, Elliot had gone deathly pale, their fists clenched and shaking slightly.

“Elliot?” He asked, concerned.

Elliot didn’t respond. Logan walked closer, setting a comforting hand in the middle of their back. 

“Elliot?” He said, questioning. “Easy now, yeah? Inhale, exhale.” 

“H-he killed my best friend, Logan. I can’t- I can’t forgive that. I just can’t.” Elliot croaked, and when they turned to face Logan there were tears in their eyes. 

“C’mon, Elliot, you need to calm down a little bit, what can one person do against-”

“ _ Calm down?!  _ I- Kai was the only thing keeping me together, and you just want me to- to walk away when his killer is right in front of me?”

“Yes, Elliot, I do.” Logan said vehemently. “Because  _ he. Will. Kill. You. _ ”

Elliot glared at him. “Like he killed Kai?”

Logan opened his mouth to reply, but before he could think, Elliot shrugged off his hand and leapt off the roof.

“Elliot!” Logan called after them. He lunged to catch their arm, but Elliot was fast and agile, a trick flyer in every sense of the word, and they were fueled by anger and grief.

He didn’t have a chance.

Logan desperately texted the group chat, trying to stay the panic that was rising in his chest.

***robot face* :** We caught sight of the Catcher. Elliot went after him, I couldn’t stop them in time.

**royal pain:** Did you see where they went?

**better watch out:** where did you see them last?

***robot face* :** We were patrolling by second and third, but the Catcher was moving west. 

**friendly father figment:** Are they okay?

***robot face*:** They were upset, talking about Kai. 

**cute lil bat baby:** Joan and I are going out, Emile and Remy already left. 

**better watch out:** im coming too. where are you, logan?

***robot face*:** Moving towards the street. They were flying - they probably got there already. We have to be quick.

**ill sleep when im dead:** no need. emile and i already found…

_ *- image.png -* _

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he clicked the picture.

There, displayed on Logan’s too-bright phone screen.... 

Elliot’s phone, shattered on the ground and surrounded by broken glass and droplets of blood.

All at once Logan’s world stopped spinning, guilt crashing down on him like a physical weight.

Logan made his way in a daze back to Roman’s house.

The others were already there, collapsed wearily on the couch.

When Logan walked in, he was met by a tense, grieving air.

They wanted to hope for the best, but realistically…

They knew that there was very little they could do.

“We have to find them.” Remy said, his voice rough.

“We only have three days.” Emile replied softly.

“You’d be surprised what one can do in three days.” Logan commented quietly, his voice shaking as he struggled to compose himself. “We- I know who he is, I saw him with Elliot on the patrol before- before Elliot jumped. Maybe I can- I don’t know, find him, and we can get him out before-“

“Stop.” Emile said, his voice hard and his eyes wet with unshed tears. “Don’t give me hope with nothing substantial to base it on.”

Logan flinched, tilting his head up and closing his eyes. 

“Right.” He mumbled, swallowing to try to clear the knot from his throat. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I…”

He let out a shuddering breath, and then he stood up quickly. “I’m going to go over what we have.” He choked out, retreating to Roman’s room.

Emile said nothing, but he leaned his head back to rest on the back of the couch, cursing under his breath.

It couldn’t have been ten minutes before a soft, hesitant knock came on the door.

Logan sighed from where he was flopped on Roman’s bed.

“This is not my house. You do not need to knock.”

“Sorry.” Logan startled at Virgil’s voice. “I thought it’d be a good idea, all things considered.”

Logan hummed slightly as Virgil came to lie next to him. “Smart.”

They sat in silence for several minutes. At some point, they heard the TV come on downstairs.

Mostly for background noise, they both knew.

“I… “ Logan started after a while, “I wasn’t lying. You  _ would  _ be surprised, and I’m going to try my best, but-“

“Logan.” Virgil interrupted, his voice steady and calm. “This isn’t on you. You know that, right? There’s no way you could have stopped Elliot from going after him.”

Logan went quiet, the sound of their breathing the only thing between them.

When he finally turned to face Virgil, tears were pooling rapidly in his eyes.

“It  _ is _ , Virgil. They were- they were  _ right there _ . I- I should have done something, I should have been faster, should’ve talked them down, should’ve  _ kept them from flying.” _

“Logan, there was nothing you could’ve done to stop them. They were acting on anger, on grief.”

“Then I should’ve dragged them back here.”

“You know that that’s not realistic, Logan.” Virgil whispered, turning on his side to face Logan.

Logan swallowed hard, shaking his head. He didn’t say anything.

“If you’d followed them, you could’ve been hurt, and then where would we be? We’d be mourning the loss of one of our own and, if the Catcher took you, too…” Virgil sighed. “It would have been the same if it were me with them, or Joan, or Remy.”

“But it was  _ me.” _

_ “ _ Logan, listen to me very closely.” Virgil’s voice was pitched low, heavy. “This was  _ not _ your fault.”

“But-“

“It wasn’t.” Virgil insisted. “If it were me out there, would you blame me?”

“Of… of course not.” 

“Then why is it any different with you?”

“Because- because I’m supposed to  _ have the answers,  _ Virge!”

“Lo, nobody has all the answers. You can’t hold yourself accountable for this when-“ Virgil stopped abruptly, huffing a frustrated breath. “Logan, this… What we’re doing here, what we’re trying to do,  _ nobody _ knows how. Nobody knows what pitfalls to avoid, nobody knows how to keep their friends safe. We’re all just kids, L. We’re just kids, bearing a weight that should never have been placed on our shoulders. And Logan, we don’t blame you for anything, and neither should you.”

“Virge, I…”

“It’s okay. It  _ will be  _ okay. We’ll get through this together, yeah?”

Logan sniffled, trying in vain to unstuff his nose.

“Yeah. Thank you, Virgil.”

Before he knew it, Logan felt his eyes start to droop, a black veil drawing swiftly across his vision as sleep finally overtook him.

The next few days were haunted with the same tense hopelessness that had followed them after the first murder.

The difference was, this time they knew for sure what was going to happen.

Sure enough, on the third day, news on Elliot came. 

They’d been patrolling. Logan with Virgil, Emile with Remy, Talyn with Joan. Roman and Patton walked on foot.

They were the ones who found the body.

Logan and Virgil were yanked out of their quiet conversation by the shrill, sudden ringing of Logan’s phone.

When Logan pulled it out to look at it, Roman’s name was flashing brightly along the top.

“Answer it.” Virgil whispered, his voice tight with nerves.

Logan nodded, closing his eyes as he swiped to accept the call.

“Roman?”

Roman’s voice high pitched and stressed as he relied. “H-hey, Logan.”

“What happened?”

They never called each other during patrols. Maybe a text here and there, a wave when their paths crossed, but-

Never a call.

Somewhere in the background, Logan could hear Patton sobbing. He was speaking between his cries, but the phone wasn’t picking up his words.

“Roman?”

“L-listen, we found them. Elliot. And… they’re… they’re not…”

Logan felt his throat close painfully.

“Right.” He said, voice hoarse.

Beside him, he saw Virgil tense, dread taking over his expression.

“We… we called it in already. Anonymous tip.”

“Where are you?” Logan asked, dazed.

“We found him by that old mall. The big, abandoned one a few blocks from the school?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Okay, we’ll be there soon.”

“Logan-“

“Call the others. They’ll want to know.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go. Patton…. Patton’s real torn up about it.”

“Right. Right, that’s good. Take care of each other. Virge and I will be there soon.”

“Will do. See you.”

Roman hung up, and Logan motioned for Virgil to follow him as he explained.

When he was done, he heard Virgil let out a shuddering breath.

“I… I guess I knew.” Virgil said quietly, as if he was afraid to speak louder. “I knew, but suspecting and having the suspicions confirmed… it’s completely different.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Logan muttered. Guilt was already churning in his stomach, screaming  _ my fault, my fault, my fault! _

When they arrived at the scene, it was clear Roman had managed to calm Patton down somewhat.

As opposed to the violent sobs he’d heard over the phone, Patton was instead sniveling quietly, tears still drying in his face - which he promptly buried into Roman’s shoulder as Logan touched down.

Logan raised a concerned eyebrow at Roman, but only received a helpless shrug in return.

“I’ll go.” Virgil murmured. “I know you’re a little lost when it comes to this kind of thing.”

“Thank you.” Logan said gratefully, giving him a weak smile.

Virgil gave him a pat on the back before walking to join Patton and Roman.

Logan sighed, watching him go, before turning around. 

Elliot. Elliot’s body.

Logan pressed one hand hard against his mouth to stay the nausea that welled up inside him as he caught sight of their mutilated body. 

He could see, faintly in the dark, a dark pool of what Logan knew was blood. 

As he walked closer, he saw more details.

A flash of bone on the broken, bloodstained wings. A glimpse of an open wound, covered in blood. The haunting image of Elliot’s eyes, staring hauntingly upwards. 

Finally, Logan wasn’t able to control it anymore, and he spun around, nausea overcoming him.

It was… it was  _ terrible _ . Ruthless, gruesome, horrifying.

And it was all because of him.

Because he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough.

Seeing the results of the murder first-hand made Logan, for the first time, realize the gravity of the situation. 

If any more of the Winged were captured before they could find and imprison the Catcher, they faced certain death.

Logan took several steadying breaths.

He… had to look.

Trying to distance himself emotionally, Logan slowly turned back to Ell-

To the body.

He tentatively inched closer, squeezing his eyes closed.

He tried to distance himself from the situation.

Blood. He could smell the sharp tang of blood in the air, and the undeniable stench of death.

It was an odor Logan hadn’t thought he’d  _ ever _ have to smell.

But underneath that, was the smell of smoke. 

Cigarettes?

But no- this smell was more acrid than cigarette smoke, it carried fumes and gasoline as well. 

Bracing himself, Logan opened his eyes.

He leaned over, gently closing Elliot’s eyes. He gently took Elliot’s wrist, placing it on top of their stomach, but as he did so-

There, on the back of Elliot’s sleeve. Dark red, marring the pale grey of the sweater Elliot had worn.

Blood? No, it was the wrong color.

Then what?

Logan lifted the sleeve to his nose, carefully sniffing.

Wine. 

Why would Elliot have a wine stain on his sweater, unless there was wine at the Catcher’s hideout?

But there were so many variables to be considered.

What if the Catcher was a smoker? Perhaps it  _ was  _ cigarette smoke, and had merely been tainted during transportation or other external factors.

Perhaps the Catcher had been drinking wine and got sloppy in his drunken haze. 

Either way, he didn’t have time to investigate, because he was snapped out of his thoughts by someone pulling roughly on his wing.

Logan stumbled back, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through his wings as the feathers were crumpled.

Policemen had arrived at the scene, forty-eight minutes after Patton had called them in a tizzy when he and Roman stumbled upon the body. 

“C’mon, kids, it’s past your bedtime.” The one who had pulled his wing said gruffly. “Scat. This isn’t your business.”

Logan glared at him as he pulled his wing around to massage the end.

“That’s one of my friends.” Logan snapped. “I think it’s plenty my business, especially considering your people have taken no measures to protect us.”

“Oh? Protect a feathered abomination like you and your friends?” Another officer mocked.

Anger, hot and raging, lit inside him. He took a step forward, but was stayed by Virgil’s hand on his shoulder. 

Logan stopped, taking a deep breath. Emile and the others were hovering behind him, unsure.

“Right.” He said finally. “Right, then we’ll be off.”

The officer snorted, waving a dismissive hand. 

Logan turned, his face stony, and took flight, fists clenched at his side. 

“Lo?” Virge asked from beside him.

He was the only one keeping up with Logan’s fast pace. The other two pairs were flying Roman and Patton, for time’s sake. 

“I can’t believe them.” Logan said in lieu of an answer. “There- there's a child dead in front of them, and they’re laughing, mocking the child’s friends. How-“ Logan cut off, his throat closing.

“People are cruel, Logan.” Virgil muttered. “There is no explanation, no excuse, no validation. People are cruel, and there is no reasoning behind it.”

“Maybe so.” Logan whispered, turning around and struggling to unclench his fists. “Maybe so.” 

There was so much more he wanted to say.

He wanted to rant about the unfairness of it all. He wanted to scream and rage and shout his grievances to the sky. He wanted to yell and to be heard in return.

Mostly, he wanted everything to go back to normal.

Mostly, he wanted to feel safe in his own home again.

Mostly, he wanted to go to bed at night without worrying that when he woke up, another of his friends would be missing.

Mostly, he was tired.

But he knew he couldn’t give up.

Especially not now.

Logan and Virgil sat silently in Roman’s house as they waited for the others to catch up.

“How long do you think it’ll be?” Virgil asked, voice barely a whisper.

“How long will what be?” Logan replied uselessly. He knew what Virgil was asking. He just didn’t want to face the issue himself.

“Until another person is taken.”

“I…”

Logan should his head helplessly at Virgil.

Always. The Catcher always found a way to lure them away from each other.

First Gina, the Toby, and Kai, and now Elliot.

Who would be next? Him? Emile? Talyn?

There was no way of knowing. 

Before Logan could provide a longer answer, the others stumbled through the door, adding to the already tense air.

“So.” Remy started, getting straight to the point. “What do we have?”

“Smoke. And wine stains.” Logan replied automatically, his voice blocky and monotone.

_ Don’t think about it _ , he told himself.  _ Don’t think about the blood, don’t think about the torn feathers, don’t think about the cold feel of Elliot’s skin, don’t think of the empty staring. _

Except he was. He was thinking about it, and now he couldn’t stop.

“Can you pinpoint a location?” Emile asked.

Logan shook his head. “There are too many extra factors. The smoke could’ve been a transportation factor, maybe the Catcher smokes, maybe the lair is in a smoke-heavy area. Maybe the Catcher was drinking wine, maybe he spilled it in his drunkenness. There’s no way to track the factors without more data.”

“Data? Like what?”

“Well… witness testimonies, most importantly. If there are suspicious sightings that also explain the traces I found, then we can identify him and his hideout.”

“And if they refuse to answer us?” Joan asked gruffly, their head tilted to the side, calculating.

“Nothing we can do. Move on and hope the next house is more cooperative.”

“Tch. Good ol’ Sanderston.” Remy spat under his breath.

Logan couldn’t help but agree.

—

They set the plan in motion. 

Roman and Patton roamed on the ground, going house to house, questioning the people who answered.

The Winged patrolled the sky, looking for anyone who matched the description Logan had given.

Logan couldn’t deny the feeling of unease coiling in his chest. 

It was a twisting, nauseous feeling.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it, because just then, Virgil pulled intently at his sleeve. 

“Lo, look.” Virgil whispered, nodding his head in front of them. 

And lo and behold, slinking between the buildings, was a man who matched Logan’s description perfectly.

Logan drew in a shark breath, guilt and fear and adrenaline all fighting inside him. 

“Virgil, text the others, so they-“

He was interrupted by a scream, and suddenly Logan wished he’d paid more heed to that uneasy feeling.

The moment it reached their ears, Virgil was off like a dart, flying towards where Patton and Roman were on the ground. 

Logan shot after him, the unease steadily building into panic.

As they got closer, they could hear the shouting of a man, and before Virgil could impulsively fly into a dangerous situation, Logan yanked him onto a nearby rooftop.

The man was slurring his words, and when he finally came into sight, Logan could see a beer bottle clutched loosely in his hand.

“Those fucking abominations!!” He drunkenly shouted. “This town would be better off if that Catcher would hurry on up and get rid off all them feathered folk!”

Logan could see Patton, hiding behind Roman, holding a hand to his cheek, and Roman, looking furious as he glared daggers at the man. With every word that fell out of his mouth, Roman’s face got angrier.

“And what do you know?” Roman spat, holding one arm out defensively to shield Patton. “You, who struck a high school student, what could you possibly know about my friends? You, who’s drowning your sorrows and wearing beer-stained clothes. Why, you’re the definition of scum!” 

Roman didn’t get a chance to continue his rant, because the man swung one of his heavy fists directly at his face. 

And Virgil leapt off the roof, tearing his wrist from Logan’s gentle grasp.

_ Too slow,  _ Logan thought.  _ Too slow, too slow, too slow again!  _

Before he could think it through, Logan was jumping off the roof after Virgil, because god, he can’t make the same mistake twice, he  _ can’t. _

_ My fault, my fault, my fault. _

In his panic, he failed to notice Roman’s scream of warning, didn’t see the gun aimed right at him, didn’t predict the bullet that came racing towards him.

A sharp, white-hot pain shot through his wing, and then he was falling.

He could feel his vision going dark, but even so he could see ahead of him - he saw the jolt as Virgil got hit, heard the cry of pain Virgil let out as he desperately tried to keep flying.

And then he hit the ground, and everything went dark.

He came to slowly, hissing through his teeth at the pain that resonated through his body.

When he finally woke up for real, he woke up to an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional hiccup. 

Someone was crying.

“P….Patton?” Logan asked, his voice scratchy and rough.

A loud sniffle answered him, and Logan struggled to his feet. 

“Patton? Wha…. what’s happened? Where….”

He could see Roman’s face, barely, and everything was blurry.

Where were his glasses?

Roman was the one who replied. 

“He… he got us, Logan. Shot a bullet right through your wing.”

The words take a few seconds to muddle their way through Logan’s disoriented, possibly concussed brain.

But when they do, his eyes widen in panic, his chest constricting as he starts frantically finding his way to his feet. 

He ignores the way his muscles scream at him, ignores the various bruises scattered around his body that protest at the sudden movement, ignores the shooting pain that shoots through his ankle, ignores the dizziness and nausea that wash over him as he finally stands up.

And he  _ runs. _

_ Virgil, _ he thought.  _ Where’s Virgil? _

He figured he knew the answer.

He hoped, so badly, that he was wrong.

Somewhere, he could hear the muted wingbeats of the others in the sky, and the pounding of Roman and Patton’s shoes on the pavement behind him but he doesn’t  _ hear _ it, because everything has taken a backseat to the sound of his heartbeat playing fast and frantic in his chest and the haunting sound of Virgil’s cry of pain, playing through his head on repeat.

And then, all at once, the world comes to a screeching halt. 

Logan feels as if he’s been left adrift, floating aimlessly in zero gravity with no anchor to speak of. 

“ _ Virgil!” _ Logan cried desperately, his voice echoing eerily through the empty night.

But it was no use.

Virgil was gone, and the only thing that remained was a single, bloodstained purple feather.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (...please leave comments im desperate)


	3. Stopped Clocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil is gone, and time is running out. The police are doing nothing, and Logan feels as though he and his friends are alone against the world. Will he be able to find clues before it’s too late? Surely, Virgil’s safe…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Yes. it has been… many months. This fic is unbeta-ed!!!! But hey!!! I did it!!! It’s here!!!!  
> Okay!!! Last Chapter!!! I'm totally up to writing an epilogue of fluff if you guys want it!

A distant muffled flutter. The desperate beating of wings against the horizon, and there- a crow rose into the dreary day sky.

Logan watched it.

 _Fitting,_ he thought.

With every imagined beat of the crow’s wings, Logan felt his own throb along.

Various other injuries joined in the chorus. A steady ache in his back, a sharp twinge in his neck.

Nothing could compare, however, to the pain that had settled deep in his chest.

One day. Was Virgil even still alive? Was he hurt? How badly?

No matter how hard he tried, he just… couldn’t get his brain to… to stop.

What time was it, even?

He wasn’t sure.

 

_A single, bloodstained feather…_

 

He barely remembered the walk back to the house. Walk, because there was a bullet in his wing. Walk, because he had failed again. Walk, because he was too slow, once more.

He remembered it was long, and tense, and quiet. He remembered soft sniffles from Patton and mumbled reassurances from Roman.

He remembered staring forward blankly.

One foot in front of the other.

Two days left.

Startling himself out of his thoughts, Logan looked down at his - Roman’s - desk. Papers, filled to the margins with script, were thrown haphazardly on any clear space.

He _had_ to find Virgil, before it was too late.

So he was desperately compiling evidence. What could it mean? How did that connect to the other pieces of evidence? It was a game of connect the dots, except failure meant his best friend - more than a friend, really, so much more - would die a terribly painful death.

If he listened, he could hear the others’ muffled voices downstairs.

If he opened the door, he could hear what they were saying but-

In the end, it wouldn’t make a difference. He already knew what they were talking about.

Logan huffed a sigh, heaving himself off of the desk he’s slumped over. Carefully, wincing at every ache that jolted under his bruised skin, he made his way downstairs, steely determination in his eyes.

As he stepped into the living room, the muted chatter fell to a hush, his friends taking in his rumpled, weary form for the first time.

“...Lo?” Patton asked, concerned.

“I’m not letting another of my friends die.” Logan said instead of replying, his voice pinched from pain.

Pain. Not emotions, definitely not. The water welling up in his eyes was on account of the twinge that fired through his wing as he jostled the wound.

Not because his best friend was missing.

Not because the person he thought he _just might_ be in love with could be dead in less than 48 hours, if he wasn’t already.

Not because the… the mere _thought_ of never seeing Virgil again was like a knife to his heart.

No. That would be… ludicrous.

Except it wasn’t.

Patton’s eyebrows furrowed at his words, and he scooted over to make room for him on the couch he was sat on with Roman.

 

“Me neither.” He says simply, and as Logan meets his eyes, he finds fire. “What’s the plan?”

Logan surveyed the room as he considered his words.

Or to get his voice under control, but… what need they to know that tidbit?

Joan and Talyn, their hushed conversation paused, sat closely leaned up against the wooden TV shelf. Nearby, Emile and Remy sat squashed together in an armchair.

No-one wanted to be far from anyone else, right now.

It made the absence at Logan’s side even more painful.

“Well, there’s not much we can do that we _haven’t already,_ but-”

“But-”

“ _But_ we already have so much evidence, and we only need just a little more.”

Logan leaned forward from his spot on the couch, hands steepled and eyes intense as he gazed around their small circle - so small, so many faces that _should have been there_ \- and he began to explain.

“On Elliot’s clothes, when- when we found him… there were stains on his sleeve, right? Wine stains.”

“Yeah. So what?” Remy asked. “Why is that important? The Catcher could just be a… a drunkie.”

“He could.” Logan agreed, his eyes sharp. “Maybe he was just drinking wine, got a little sloppy. But - where did he get the wine? What stores even sell wine? He’d need an ID, would he not? Who can we talk to in order to find out who bought wine recently?”

“That’s not all, though?” Joan cut in.

“No. There’s a possibility that the wine stain on his clothing came from somewhere close to the catcher’s hideout. A wine plant, such as the one Vir- um… Such as the one Virgil and I spotted him at that night.”

“That seems a bit… far-fetched.”

“Yes, but there is more evidence to possibly support the latter theory. Elliot smelled of smoke. But there’s- there’s just too many external factors; the Catcher could be a smoker. Where does he put his cigarettes? What brand are they? What does he do with the used ones? Maybe the smoke was a transport factor - Except. Except, except, except. The smoke was much too strong too have been merely from the trip going from wherever the Catcher takes his victims to where we found Elliot. The smoke was almost embedded into his clothes, and was almost… chemical-based.”

Logan was reeling. A full, sleepless almost-day and a half filled with such stress had left him frayed, almost manic with anxiety, and Logan found himself unable to rein in his tangent.

Out of his pocket, he pulled up a neatly folded paper and passed it to Patton.

“A… police report?” Patton asked apprehensively.

“Autopsy report.” Logan said, dismissive. There were more important things to focus on. “More importantly - look at what’s highlighted.”

“‘Various chemicals found on fingertips’,” Patton read, unsure as he passed the paper on to Roman.

“Right. But where did they come from? Chemicals in the smoke _and_ on his fingers? Our first definitive clue - wherever he held Elliot had to have been near a factory. What factory, though?”

He could hear Talyn’s irritated scoff as they and Joan passed the report off to Emile, and he spared a knowing glance - honestly, the report was lazy enough that they’re lucky the chemicals were even _mentioned_ \- before returning back to the… clues.

“There’s just… a few pieces of the puzzle that I can’t seem to find for the life of me and- and it’s the same, I’m making the same mistakes and he- he’s gonna end up just like-”

He cuts off suddenly, dropping his head into his hands as he tries to calm his stuttered breathing.

“Lo?” Roman asks suddenly, voice low and hesitant. “When you and Virge were… you were shot, Virgil wasn’t unconscious when he fell, maybe he landed on his feet? But he- he was fighting with the Catcher and… and he made the guy drop this.”

Breathing still a bit fast, Logan raised his head. Clutched rather warily in Roman’s hand is an… an almost ripped piece of paper - and as Logan takes it, gently, oh so gently, he can feel his breath stop.

It’s a receipt.

A receipt, for one Mr. Frederick Wilburrow - truthfully, a most likely fake name - with a purchase of… some knives, a couple snacks, a few metal bars, wrenches, the like.

The thought of what some of the things listed on that receipt could be used for sent shivers up Logan’s spine.

But, most importantly, was the name printed neatly in an even font at the top of the paper.

_Sanders Supply._

Logan looked up at Roman, speechless.

“This… Roman, you glorious airhead you!” Logan cried, punching Roman’s shoulder. Ignoring Roman’s whine, Logan continued. “This is it! We- we can talk to the store owner- and then we can get to Virge before-”

Logan cut off, becoming grim.

“Can we go _now_?” Talyn asked nervously.

“No.” Emile answered, just as grim as Logan. “It’s late, it’d be suspicious if a bunch of teenagers came in a shop on the other side of town at almost two in the morning.”

Talyn huffed a disappointed sigh.

“I think… it’s best if we all tried to get some shut-eye.” Patton cut in carefully. “None of us slept very well last night, and we’ll need to be awake tomorrow if we want any chance of winning against this guy.”

Logan winced at the sharp look Patton him.

It was no use.

Logan knew he wouldn’t be getting much sleep until Virgil was safe.

But around the room, a reluctant chorus of agreement answered him, and they all started to find places to settle in.

Logan slid off the couch to give Patton and Roman room to lie down, instead taking over Emile and Remy’s vacated armchair.

Throughout the night, Logan faded in and out of a strange half-sleep. Thinking, thinking, thinking.

His waking thoughts were of ways to save Virgil. His brief nightmares were of Virgil, falling, falling, falling from the sky. His nightmares were of breaking into a room, only to find Virgil already dead. His nightmares were of his plan going so terribly _wrong_ , that even the friends he had in eyesight, sprawled in all sorts of strange positions and snoring, ended up bloody and unseeing on a vague stone floor.

Eventually, Logan decided he’d rather stay awake than risk falling into another… _dream._

He was ‘woken’ eventually by his phone alarm.

As he opened his eyes, he saw Patton’s eyes peeking up from over Roman’s shoulder.

“Is it time?” He asked.

Logan nodded. “I’ll wake Emile and Remy upstairs. You got these three?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry.”

Logan nodded, getting to his feet and heading upstairs.

The birds were chirping outside.

It was a strangely cheerful sound, out-of-place in the melancholy that had enveloped the Prince household.

It didn’t take long to get everyone awake.

Everyone was on edge, and as result were remarkably light sleepers.

They made their way quickly to the store.

Roman and Patton went in first, as usual, while the Winged teens stayed hidden around the corner, waiting anxiously.

Logan felt as if he was vibrating in his shoes by the time the pair came back.

“Is everything okay? Nothing happened? What did he tell you? Did he tell you anything?” Logan burst out.

Roman and Patton exchanged a wary look.

“No, no, we’re fine, Thomas - the owner? - is kind and all. He said-” Patton broke off, looking to Roman, who finished for him.

“Thomas said there was someone loitering around the area. He comes in the store sometimes to buy things - clothes, water, um… cleaning supplies, and such. The guy fits your description, Lo.” Roman said, stumbling over his words. “But he- he’s odd, apparently. Randomly bursts out laughing, says all sorts of cryptic jargon..”

“Did he have any idea where he comes from?” Logan asked hurriedly.

“He said that the guy comes in and out of this old… storage unit… and it’s sandwiched right between a factory and a brewery. A wine brewery.”

Logan swallowed hard.

It matched up - the wine stains, the chemicals, all of it - but…

“We’re just… a bunch of high-schoolers.” Roman said, breaking the tense silence. “We’re no match for this guy, are we? He’s...armed, he’s an _adult,_ and he- he’s got experience in… hurting people.”

Patton shuffled nervously, looking close to tears as he struggled through his words. “And- and it’s been two days- Virge, he- If he’s not dead already, he-”

“No.” Logan snapped, eyes cold and sharp as he glared at Patton. “No, he- that’s not going to happen. He’s alive. He has to be, I can’t… I can’t lose someone else, I can’t let someone die because of me _again.”_ His voice had gotten shakier and shakier as he spoke, and by the end Logan couldn’t see through the unfallen tears blurring his eyes.

Logan could faintly hear Patton’s protest, could faintly hear him insisting, “It’s not your fault, Lo, it isn’t!” but he couldn’t really hear him over his own thoughts.

Virgil was really the only one who ever _could_ break through the constant flow, the only one who could knock sense into his thick skull.

But he wasn’t around.

And it was Logan’s fault.

So.

He started planning.

“Patton?” Logan started, unaware of the sentence he’d interrupted. Focused entirely on his own thoughts, he missed the sad look Pat gave him.

“...Yeah, kiddo?”

“You stay outside with Remy.”

“O-okay, but why?”

“The storage units themselves are rather small, and they only have one entrance and exit. If something goes wrong, I need you to call- someone. Our police, then the closest town over. And if the Catcher comes out… I need you two to stop him so he won’t ambush us on our way out with a… likely injured Virgil. On that note, call an ambulance while you wait.”

Patton agreed quietly, twisting his hands, and Remy gave a nod from across the group.

“The rest of us will go inside. Do any of us know how to pick locks?”

Talyn raised a tentative hand.

“Excellent. Roman, you’re the least likely to get attacked, correct?”

“Yes.” Roman replied steadily. His normally immaculate hair was wild around his head from stressfully raking his hands through it, but his eyes were deadly serious as he listened to the plan forming in front of him.

“Once Talyn unlocks the unit, I need you to look inside first. Statistically, you are unlikely to be hurt. Is this okay?”

Roman nodded. “So long as we find Virgil, I’ll do whatever I possibly can.”

Logan let out a weak breath, nodding.

“Once we find him, assuming worst condition-”

“W-worst condition?”

“Worst condition means… Virgil is unresponsive, but alive.” Logan asked. Images of Virgil, bloody, wings torn from his body, wounds bleeding, the stark white of bone filled his mind, and Logan;s breath caught sharply as he forcefully expelled those thoughts from his mind. _He’s okay, he’s alive, he won’t be hurt like that, he won’t._ “Worst case, his wounds dictate he be carried out carefully.”

“And… and if we _do_ see the catcher?” Joan asked. “Will we be armed? Do you expect us to even have a _chance_ against him?”

“I… I think, with how many of us there are, we’ll be able to overpower him. Why do you think he only comes after us when we’re alone?”

“Yeah…” Roman agreed after a pause. “And thinking back on that receipt… it looks like he’s been living off junk food. Weapons or not, all of us together should be able to… at least stall until somebody can get here.”

“So what? We just gang up on him?”

“That’s the best we can hope for, kiddo.” Patton broke in softly.

“It’s… reckless.” Logan admitted. “There’s so many places it could go wrong. But… I’m willing to be a little reckless. I’m going to be aware, alert. But it’s going to be reckless. There’s no changing that. There’s not enough time to change that. But Virgil… I’m going in there for Virgil. And I’m not coming back out without him.”

“And if you die trying to save him?”

“Who’s to say I wouldn’t be the Catcher’s next victim anyways?”

Joan was silent for a long moment.

“Okay.” He said, finally.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. When do we go?”

Logan cast an inquisitive look around the group.

“Why not now?” Roman asked.

They looked at him strangely.

“Now?” Emile asked.

“Yeah. Who’d expect a bunch of high schoolers to break into a serial killer’s hideout in broad daylight?”

Logan huffed a wry laugh. “That’s… a fair point.”

“I’m in.” Patton said, at Roman’s side.

Across from them, Emile and Remy exchanged a tired glance, before shrugging.

“Me too. We’re equal amounts of fucked either way, yeah?” Joan said, blase. Talyn nodded in agreement by their side.

“That settles it, then.” Logan mused, looking around at the myriad of expressions on the faces surrounding him. Determination. Grief. Pain. Fear, doubt, worry.

Hope.

“Let’s go, then, shall we?” He asked, giving a small smile to his small group.

They were going to save Virgil.

They _were._

\--

The sun was high in the sky by the time the small group made it to the factory.

“This is it?” Remy questioned.

“Seems so.” Emile answered quietly. “Brewery, shed, factory. It’s no wonder this place isn't used much - it’s almost toxic back here!”

Logan wrinkled his nose. Emile wasn’t wrong - smoke burned his nose when he breathed in, and Logan idly wondered if the chemicals in the smoke would have any adverse effects.

He wished he’d brought a mask.

He wondered if Virgil had found a way to filter the air.

He wondered if he’d even had a chance.

“Okay.” Logan started, voice low. “Here we are. Patton, Remy, you’ll stay here. Keep an eye on that door.”

Remy and Patton nodded. Remy had his glasses propped up on his head, and there was no Starbucks cup to be seen. Patton was still, his only movement in the wringing of his hands.

It was strange, seeing them so… subdued.

Logan didn’t much like it.

“As for us… we’ll follow Roman. Tuck your wings in, so the shadow isn’t as noticeable.” Logan instructed.

Emile, Talyn, and Joan nodded, and followed Logan as Roman walked out to the entrance of the building.

“...It’s locked.” Roman whispered, trying the door knob.

Talyn narrowed their eyes, coming up beside him. Out of their hoodie pocket came a lock picking kit, and in less than a minute their deft hands had unlocked the first door.

Roman whispered his thanks as he entered, Talyn behind him. Then Joan, then Logan, then Emile.

Logan let out a silent, disbelieving breath as he looked down the halls.

They’d entered into the middle. One unit after another, after another, after another, all in a straight line down the hall on both sides and… with the dim lighting, the narrow hallway seemed to go on forever.

But… but, but, but - a small stroke of luck.

This… was a storage unit. This was an _abandoned_ storage unit. Which meant, in this case at least, that many of those doors were left open.

But it was more dangerous this way.

The Catcher could be in any of those rooms. _Virgil_ could be in any of those rooms.

He could hear Joan curse lightly under his breath to his right.

Silently, he agreed with the sentiment.

They all knew what this meant. There were too many stalls, there’s no way they’d find Virgil in time unless-

Unless they separated.

Logan wandered over to one of the closed unit lockers. He lifted the door, surprised when it came away easily.

 

“Okay.” Logan whispered shakily. “Okay. They aren’t locked. Joan, Talyn, Emile. Keep your wings hidden carefully, look as Wingless as possible. Go down the left hallway. If you find Virgil, text the chat. If you run into the Catcher, scream. Yell. Kick a locker. Do whatever you have to do to get our attention. We’ll come running. Got it?”

Joan and Talyn nodded simultaneously. The danger was so much higher in these smaller groups, so much more precision was needed.

The tension had risen exponentially.

“Roman and I… we’ll go left. The same goes. We’ll text if we find Virge. IF you hear signs of a struggle… come running. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

Logan’s voice was grim.

The five nodded together, and then broke off.

“Good luck…” Roman whispered uneasily as their friends turned around, making their slow way down the hallway, peeking inside doorways and lifting the ones that were closed.

The two of them scarcely spoke. They worked mostly on opposite side of the halls. Roman checked the open doors, and Logan checked the closed ones.

Every time Logan shined his meagre phone light into one of the storage units, he found himself simultaneously scared out of his wits and hope, hope, hoping, that this would be the one.

Each time he expected to see a grizzly man’s face come at him, each time he expected to see Virgil’s bloody, broken body.

Logan wanted to hope for the best, but…

Time was drawing thin.

And distantly, a high shriek echoed down the long, stone hall , eerie and grating.

Logan’s heart dropped to his feet, blood running cold.

Talyn. Joan. Emile.

_If you run into the Catcher, scream. Yell. Kick a locker. Do whatever you have to do to get our attention._

The Catcher.

Faster than he could blink, Logan was sprinting. _Idiot, idiot!_ His mind screamed at him. _My fault, my fault._

Each second seemed to slow down into an hour.

He was running in the dark of a cold, abandoned storage unit, and he could hear the muffled _thump, thump,_ of the others running behind him-

_-and the pounding of Roman and Patton’s shoes on the pavement behind him but he doesn’t hear it, because everything has taken a backseat to the sound of his heartbeat playing fast and-_

It’s such deja vu, and Logan can’t, he can’t he _can’t-_

_-the haunting sound of Virgil’s cry of pain, playing through his head on repeat._

And then, all at once, the world comes to a screeching halt.

Joan is pinned to the floor, the Catcher looming over them with a knife clutched ruthlessly in one hand.

_But before he could think, Elliot shrugged off his hand and leapt off the roof._

Logan had always been too slow before.

_And Virgil jumped, tearing his wrist from Logan’s gentle grasp._

He won’t be, this time.

The Catcher’s hand started to come down.

Logan ran.

The impact seemed to throw everything into fast-forward. Suddenly, everything was moving much too quickly. He could hear Talyn, trying to pull Joan to their feet, could hear Roman shouting over the blood rushing in his ears.

Logan managed to pin down the Catcher for a split second - and hey, Roman was right, the guy was greasy and out of shape and he was huffing and puffing just from their brief scuffle, but he was tall, taller than Logan, even, and he used that height to his advantage.

Sure enough, in no time Logan was pinned in much of the same manner that Joan had been before, his hands pinned under his back and his legs restrained by the Catcher’s knees.

But he wasn’t there for long before the Catcher, again, was tackled by another of the teens.

Except this time, it was Roman. It was a wingless.

“Fred!” Roman yelled above the chaos, and silence fell.

Seemingly shell-shocked at the sight of another Wingless, the Catcher had fallen still. His eyes were manic and unfocused.

He… he was _insane_. Literally.

“Is that little Jeremy I see?” The man asked, his voice lilting up and down unnaturally. “Why, you’ve grown up big since I last saw you… what’re you doing with these freaks?”

Roman swallowed. “Y-yeah. Um… I brought them to you. A nasty trick, huh?” Roman said snobbily, falling more into his character as he spoke.

The man let out a bellowing laugh in response. His unfocused eyes didn’t see the phone clutched in Roman’s white-knuckled grip.

“That-a boy!” The Catcher bellowed.

Logan didn’t dare breathe, let alone stand from his position on the floor.

Roman knelt directly next to the man, in all his… sloppy, smoky, disgusting glory.

Roman raised an arm, as if to offer the Catcher a hand up off the dusty stone floor.

And then.

Quickly, with every bit of force he could muster, Roman brought the edge of the phone down into the Catcher’s temple. The Catcher jolted for a split second, and then goes unnaturally still, his eyes rolling in the back of his head.

The hall is frozen for barely a second, and then-

A fluster of hushed activity, as if scared to wake the unconscious threat.

“We have to find Virge fast, he won’t be out for long.” Roman whispered hurriedly as the group jogged down the hall.

Check, next, check, next, was Roman and Talyn’s pattern, on opposite side of the hallway.

Lift-check-close-switch and run, lift-check-close-switch and run, was Logan, Emile and Joan’s.

With each room they looked through, Logan became more and more frantic, the clock _tick-tick-ticking_ towards midnight, and the Catcher was behind him but _what-if what-if what-if_ and-

“L-Logan?” Roman called, his voice trembling and scratchy as it caught in his throat.

Logan lifted his head, hoping against hope,and-

“We found him.”

Logan hardly said a word, jogging to the unit Roman stood in front of. Dread and hope warred inside him, and he put the flashlight on his phone up to shine into the small space.

_Virgil._

Inside is… dark.

But faintly, against the far wall,  Logan could make out a dark, shapeless form curled up with their back facing the entrance

He took a few careful steps forward.

“Virgil?”

For a few seconds, he felt as though all of his fears had been realized. A few hopeless seconds, where the form didn’t _move_ , let alone reply.

And then.

And then, weakly.

“...Lo?”

Virgil’s voice was weak and slurred and Logan could barely hear him, even from their meager distance but the one word is all he needed to cross the remaining distance. “Yes, Virge, it’s me, I’m here, we found you.” He choked out. The words are spilling out, and distantly he could feel tears on his cheeks but all he could focus on was Virgil, moving, _alive_ right in front of him.

He kneeled at Virgil’s side, pushing away the mounting horror as Virgil’s injuries came to light, focusing on the fact that he _was alive_.

“L-Lo, Logan, I- He- And-” Virgil stuttered through his sentence, unable to complete a thought before something entirely different took over. “Shouldn’t be here.” He finally settled on, his voice trembling. “He- he’ll be back, soon.”

“No.” Logan said, softly. “No, we’re here to get you out, Virge, We’re not leaving without you.”

“But- I- but-”

“I- I can’t make it without you, V, please.” Logan begged, afraid to touch but wanting so, _so_ badly to pull Virgil into his arms.

Virgil curled out of his ball, and Logan felt his chest grow tight at the rattle of chains against each other.

Virgil’s hands, bloody from yanking against the restraints, were cuffed behind his back - right underneath his wings.

And _oh,_ his wings. They were… bloody. Feathers had been ripped out and littered along the floor, and he could see an odd angle where one had been dislocated. A bone stuck out on the other, and Logan shuddered to think at how much pain Virgil must still be in.

His feet, too, were cuffed together, such that he couldn’t even stand.

“T-Talyn?” Logan called out, voice wavering.

“Yeah.” They responded quietly, coming forward.

Virgil flinched as Talyn’s hands reached out.

Logan watched him carefully as Talyn continued to tinker with the cuffs, until finally, they fell off with an audible click.

As soon as his hands were free, Virgil dove into Logan’s arms, sobbing.

“It hurts,” Virgil mumbled. Logan’s heart clenched, and he struggled to find a way to hold Virgil that wouldn’t hurt him further. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.”

 _I’m sorry,_ he wanted to say. “I know,” He said instead. “We’re getting you out. Just a little while longer, and we’ll fix you right up, no problem.”

“Will I be able to fly?” Virgil asked. His voice was high and panicked. “Logan, he broke one of my wings- I- He- Will I be-”

Logan paused. “I- I think so.” He tried. “The break isn’t in a delicate area- it looks like it was broken in a place more aimed to caus- to cause pain than to decapacitate you.”

Virgil collapsed in his arms, and Logan looked nervously back at his friends.

Now that Virgil was safe, albeit hurt, but _breathing_ and _alive_ in his arms, he was starting to wonder how they were going to get… _out._

 _“_ Virge?” Logan questioned softly.

He was answered by a hum. Virgil was… reasonably exhausted, and fading fast but-

But in his panic, all Logan could remember is _don’t let someone this injured go to sleep_ , so he gently tapped Virgil back awake. “C’mon, love.” he mumbled. “We’re gonna pick you up, is that okay?”

“You and who?” Virgil asked.

“Me and… me and whoever you want.” Logan answered, looking around. Talyn, Joan, Emile, Roman.

Virgil’s dazed, dark eyes peeked up warily from Logan’s shoulder.

“R-Ro…” He mumbled, dropping his head back onto Logan’s shoulder.

Logan nodded, trying to steel himself.

Virgil was…

Virgil was sassy and sarcastic and witty full of so much _fire_ and-and not…

Virgil wasn’t supposed to be as tired as the boy in his arms. He wasn’t supposed to be as bone-weary as he was, wasn’t supposed to be so dazed and compliant.

It was… it was _terrifying._

When Logan finally jerked out of his thoughts, Roman was standing above him, worry etched in his eyes.

“Ready?” Roman asked.

Logan nodded. They couldn’t carry Virgil between them - that would be torture for him, most likely, with all his injuries - but they couldn’t carry him bridal style either, because of his wings. Piggyback might work, if something could hold his wings and keep him from falling.

“How we doing this, specs?” Roman asked, trying to force a smile past his mounting uncertainty.

“I guess we’ll put him up on my back, but I can’t get him there myself, and i don’t want to get his wings stuck under his thighs when I grab him.”

“Okay… um, kneel down, I’ll get him to hop on, and maneuver his wings, just... “ Roman paused, his voice shaking with nerves.

Logan swallowed hard, doing as he said, flattening his wings to the sides as much as he could. Behind him he could hear Roman talking in a low mumble to Virgil, directing the exhausted boy.

Eventually, Virgil’s warm weight settled on his back. Logan frowned worriedly at his weak grip around his neck, and as he stood up he swore he could feel Virgil’s hands loosen even more.

Carefully, Logan moved his wings so that they could hold Virgil securely against him.

Roman gave a weak attempt at a comforting smile, before taking up the lead once again.

The light from his phone caught something glittering in Roman’s hand, and Logan went pale.

Had he not been carrying Virgil, he thought he might puke.

In Roman’s hand, clutched tightly, was a metal pole. Innocent enough, but for the blood that coated it’s end.

Blood that, no doubt, belonged to Virgil.

Despite knowing that it would be best not to have another encounter, Logan couldn’t help but hope that he would get to see Roman knock the murderer out again.

Careful what you wish for.

The door was in sight. They reached it slower this time, walking rather than running, but as soon as they went to open it they were met by a furious roar from down the hall.

It seemed dear Frederick had discovered his missing captive.

The group’s collective anxiety spiked at the sound, and Roman practically ripped his hand off trying to open the door.

Key word? Trying.

The door was locked.

“Talyn?” Emile asked, voice high pitched with fear as he looked back down the hallway they’d come.

“Workin, workin.” they mumbled, giving a half-hysterical laugh as they jimmied the nob.

Distantly, they could hear the disjointed slam of the man’s feet on the cold stone.

Closer, closer, ever so closer.

The four remaining people watched the hallway as Talyn picked the lock. What took maybe a minute seemed to stretch into an hour.

And just when they caught sight of the catcher’s slumped, sprinting, bellowing form, the door fell open with a _click._

It was the best sound Logan had heard all day.

Well. Second best. Nothing could beat that first weak word Virgil spoke.

As Emile cleared the doorway, he slammed the door shut. “Go.” He said, gritting his teeth. “Run with Virgil. Patton and Remy should have called an ambulance by now. Get him there, quickly. I’ll hold this door for as long as I can, and I’ll fly away before he can catch me.”

“Emile-”

“Go!” Emile shouted. His usually kind, jolly eyes were serious, almost cold. Logan backed off, mourning just how much they’d all gone through.

In the name of what?

Blinking hard, Logan backed up. “Emile,” He called back, not looking over his shoulder, “Don’t you dare get yourself killed!”

A tense laugh is all that answered him.

He passed the corner where they’d left Patton and Remy.

Patton still stood there. He gasped when he caught sight of Virgil, his hands going up to cover his mouth.

Logan still couldn’t see what Virgil looked like in the light of day.

He wasn’t sure he could bear it.

“Patton,” Logan asked, voice gravelly, “Ambulance?”

Patton nodded in place of words, his own tears starting to fall down his cheeks, gesturing for Logan to follow.

Logan did.

Ahead, flashing blue and red, sat an ambulance and police cars labelled “Foster” instead of “Sanderston”.

As Patton and Logan approached, several adults came to intercept them, concern written across their faces and-

And how fucked up was it that now, Logan was _surprised_ to see these adults so genuinely worried for his health and safety. Something that should be- should be normal, and expected, and-

He was so tired.

So he let the homely man comfort him as he led him to the ambulance, let himself cry into this policeman’s vest as medical professionals tried to save the boy he’d definitely fallen in love with, let himself tell the entire awful story.

He let himself be comforted, let himself be treated like a kid for once because, damn it, he _was_ one.

And then, as the sun was falling onto the far horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, he looked around. Roman and Patton were cuddling together on the back of an ambulance after getting checked out, Talyn and Joan together on another as one of the EMTs asked them questions, Emile getting hassled by Remy before an officer came to ask if they’d been checked over and-

And there Logan was, sitting on a bench and watching the gentle rise and fall, rise and fall of Virgil’s chest.

“I love you.” Logan whispered, unheard, to him. “I didn’t get to say it before… before everything happened, but- but I do.”

Virgil just kept breathing. Rise and fall, rise and fall.

“I realised, when- well…” Logan cut off with a dry laugh. “I think i’ve always _known,_ somewhere in the back of my head, but… you know me. I didn’t… I didn’t really get it until you- until you were taken.”

Logan took a moment to calm his breathing.

He could still remember the panic he’d felt as Virgil leapt from the roof, the dread as he woke up on the ground, the fear as the days ticked away.

Rise and fall. Rise and fall.

“This is silly,” Logan muttered to himself. Hesitantly, he reached out to grab Virgil’s hand. “I should…”

He sighed.

“No.”

Logan’s head snapped up. Virgil hadn’t moved, but to open a single eye.

“Keep talking, please, I…” Virgil’s breath stuttered on the way in. His voice was still weak, soft enough that Logan wouldn’t have been able to hear had they not been alone, but it didn’t tremble, and there was no fear in it. “I love you, too. I have, since- for awhile, but I was so, so scared to lose you.” He admitted.

Logan felt relief flood through him. “You…?”

“Yeah, Lo. When… when I saw you, back there… I thought I was dreaming. But dreams don’t hurt, do they?” Virgil broke off to huff a laugh.

“I can’t… Virge, I-”

And suddenly, he was crying again. He could hear Virgil trying to sit up, and just pressed a gentle hand to his chest.

“I thought- I kept telling myself you were alive, you had to be, you just- what would I ever do if you weren’t, yknow? But somewhere deep inside, where- where the things i don't understand reside, I still thought, you were- I thought you were dead.”

And struggling through that sentence just brought all those terrible dreams to light.

_My fault, my fault, my fault._

“Oh, Lo…” Virge said softly. “It’s not your fault.”

“But-”

“I was the one who jumped off the roof.” Virgil said seriously. When Logan looked up, he had both eyes open and had turned as carefully as he could to face him. “You knew we should’ve stayed out of sight, but Pat screamed and I just- I just acted. Hell of a time for ‘fight or flight’ to choose ‘fight’, huh?”

“Technically, it chose ‘flight’ in the literal sense.” Logan muttered, wiping his eyes on his long sweater sleeve.

Virgil let out a surprised cough of laughter.

“Virge I… I don’t want to lose you, you’re… you’re so important, and I almost _did_ lose you, and…”

“Logan.” Virgil’s voice was serious. “I promise, from this day forward, we protect each other. I love you, and I won’t leave your side. Ever.”

“... We have different classes and living residences.”

“Figuratively, L.” Virge said, humor coating his words.

Logan offered a small smile. “Pinky promise?”

“Oh, heck yes. Pinky promise.”

Logan scooted down until he was laying across from Virgil, their pinkies linked between them.

Gradually, he fell asleep, following the gentle lull of sounds around him. The crickets outside, the murmur of voices.

And, there, beside him…

Rise and fall. Rise and fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it! this brings the fic to a close ;)   
> if enough people want it, i’d be happy to write the fluffy epilogue hehe

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!! if you liked it, please leave a comment, id love it, and it might motivate me to get chapter two out sooner!  
> See you in an undetermined period of time, meanwhile you can find me at @supercalivirgilistic or @sortablue on tumblr!


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